


Catch and Release

by deemohn



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Awkwardness, Gen, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27896872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deemohn/pseuds/deemohn
Summary: When Mustafa had offered his home to Tony, he hadn’t expected the offer to even be considered.Takes place sometime during the 205 Live tournament in 2018
Kudos: 3





	Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

> This had been sitting in my drafts for years. It was supposed to be a rebound fuckfest, but it never got that far. Oh well.
> 
> Guess it'd make sense to read my fic 'rearviewmirror' before this, but idk I'm not your dad

When Mustafa had offered his home to Tony, he hadn’t expected the offer to even be considered.

But a text message and a car ride later, Tony was in his kitchen and the awkwardness was tangible. He busied himself with a tea kettle while Tony leaned against a wall. 

“So what happened with Ariya?” Mustafa asked, but immediately chastised himself for being nosy. 

“Oh!” Tony chuckled dryly. “I didn’t want him in the middle of...y’know. It was getting to be a bit much.” 

“Am I allowed to ask how you’re doing?” He was hesitant to even go that far, and when Tony groaned, he internally cringed. 

“Well Drew keeps trying to get in touch with me, and even after I blocked his number he keeps trying to go through Ariya and Noam and-” 

“No, Tony,” Mustafa gently interrupted the rant. “I meant _you_. How have you been holding up?” 

Brow furrowed and lips pursed. “I...don’t know? Guess I haven’t slowed down enough to let myself think about it. I’m breathing? That’s something, right?” 

“That is something,” agreed Mustafa, slowly nodding. It was quiet again, and as Tony looked lost in his own head, Mustafa took the opportunity to discreetly observe the dark circles and clusters of petechiae under his eyes. He wanted to inquire about when the last time that Tony had slept, but instead he asked, “Did you eat? I can order pizza.” 

“I-” Tony paused, and Mustafa thought about the last few times he and Cedric had invited him out to lunch or dinner, only to be declined; in retrospect, it never seemed as though they were being blown off. If lack of appetite was the case, it was so terribly sad to see someone so hurt that their own body revolted against them. “I’m OK, really.” 

“Well, I’ll order something. Just in case.” Mustafa pulled his phone out and loaded the GrubHub app. It took a little coaxing, but he managed to get a few preferred toppings out Tony by assuring that there was no pressure to eat. At least in the event that he got hungry, there’d be something good on hand. 

“You don’t have to do this.” Tony weakly shook his head. 

“But I want to.” Mustafa smiled up at him. 

“I mean like...any of this.” The room in general was gestured to, and Mustafa understood. 

“It’s OK, dude. Really.” The response didn’t seem exactly satisfactory, but he didn’t worry about it as the tea kettle started to whistle loudly. Two mugs were pulled down from a cabinet, and sachets were set in them. “You want some oolong tea? It’s great for metabolism and upset stomach.” 

“I guess. Sure,” Tony half-heartedly replied. Boiling water was poured into the mugs, and they were placed on the table. 

“Sit with me?” Mustafa requested and Tony quietly obliged. 

“This what you do for everyone you have matches with?” A ghost of a smile was on Tony’s lips, and it made Mustafa grin. 

“Only people that I get paired up with hundreds of times.” The loud snort in response was encouraging. “I’m serious! We’ve had how many matches, yet we’ve never really hung out?” 

“Different social circles?” Offered Tony as he toyed with the string of his tea bag. Whatever traces of mirth he held earlier vanished entirely. “By the way, you and Cedric didn’t have to help me like you did.” 

“Should we not have?” Mustafa kept his tone gentle, afraid to overstep whatever fragile boundaries were in place. 

“I’m not-” Tony exhaled, rubbing his face. His voice dropped, and at last he said, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Stretching a hand across the small table, Mustafa pat Tony’s forearm; he hadn’t expected the small smile in response. It was quiet for another stretch, but that was fine. Tony was obviously zoned out as he stared down at the wafting steam, looking like he’d pass out at any moment. Finally, Mustafa asked, “Hey, you wanna chill in the living room? Might be more comfortable.” 

“Huh?” Tony shook his head, clearing out whatever daze he was in. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.” 

As they took seats at opposite ends of the sofa and Netflix was loaded up for background noise, Mustafa waited for Tony to lead the conversation. Almost immediately, the tournament was brought up, which caught him off guard. “He’s ruthless,” Tony had warned, and became more animated as he went on. “I guess really he’s always been that way, but. I dunno anymore.” 

And Mustafa nearly interjected to defend himself, but thought better of it. Instead, he listened and wondered how often Tony had opened up about any of this to anyone; judging by how quickly he’s speaking and how much he’s sharing, Mustafa can only assume that it’s quite infrequent, if at all. He’s seen Tony like this a handful of times, but those moments have almost always been exclusively towards Drew, when they’d be away from everyone else. Maybe it was due to shyness, or maybe there’d been other unknown factors for why that was, but there’s something almost intimate and achingly beautiful about being privileged enough to be apart of something other than aloofness.


End file.
